Tears and Torchlight
by Revolutionary Bakunin
Summary: Minerva's love for that certain someone tears her apart, but during a late night stroll it seems Severus has finally noticed her. Are her dreams about to come true?


The night skies were cold and vacant, the dim scattering of stars only faintly shining through a thin sheet of clouds. The air was completely still, with not even a bit of wind trickling about the small canyons created between the tall towers of the castle. The night seemed frozen in time and space; a vast void separated from the world where this one woman had come to seek solace from her weary emotions.  
Minerva McGonagall paced alone along the cold stone balcony, only the sound of her own quiet breath shattering the glassy calm that had settled over Hogwarts. It did indeed seem like time had frozen still, as if she was suspended here in this cold void for eternity, doomed and at the same time blessed with the promise of never again having to immerse herself back into the chaos of reality.  
The woman drew in a long, shuddering breath, her chest, covered thickly in wool robes, rising and falling with a slow rhythm that was the only visible movement in the darkness. She was so alone, and so cold. Not just because of the night, because of the void, but because of him. She was alone and cold inside herself because of the games he played with her, the small battles which she always seemed to lose.  
Was love supposed to be like this? She constantly asked herself. Was it supposed to hurt this much? She had no answer for herself, so all she could do was to continue pacing back and forth through the lifeless shadows.  
In a tower far across the wide dark abyss from the balcony on which she walked, a light quietly flickered to life in a small window. Her dark eyes were drawn to it, drawn to way the yellow glow mirrored off the salty tears in her eyes, creating thousands of tiny prismatic points of bright yellow that filled her gaze with light.  
Ironic, she thought, that this single light could fill the entire dark night with such a bright, insatiable light. Minerva raised a cold hand to the delicate curves of her face, sliding it gently along under her vacant eyes to wipe away the tears. Wiped away with the tears was the cascading reflecting light, and again her world was filled with darkness.  
Once again Minerva, a quiet philosophical thinker, found an ironic meaning within her own tears. Only when she was crying was she able to see the light, and the moment her tears went away, it was dark and lonely again.  
What was that supposed to mean? She screamed at herself inside, gritting her teeth in a tormented, inexplicable anger that seemed to be bubbling out of nothingness inside her own mind. What was the light trying to tell her? That only with great sadness would she ever be truly happy? That only when she is pushed to the point of tears would she ever not feel dark and alone?  
She laughed softly to herself, her pale, smooth cheeks pulling back, her lips delicately curving into what looked like a half smile, half painful grimace. They might be just tears and torchlight, she knew, but so far the metaphor fit her perfectly.  
Ever since the day she had began feeling that strange feeling whenever she saw his dark figure marching down the hall she had been sad. Ever since the day her face and hands had grown tingly and warm at the sight of his pale face and dark, vast eyes, she had felt joy. It was something she couldn't understand, she couldn't explain. Without him there to make her feel content and safe, she knew she would wither away and die. Yet, she was withering away now, because always in the back of her mind was the knowledge that she would never have him. It tormented her every time she saw his face, every time he spoke to her in his cold, flat voice. Every time she felt his decisive, searching gaze probing her body and soul, she felt it. It was always as if she was talking to him through a sheet of glass, gazing at him through a thin white sheet, feeling his cold skin through a thick leather glove. No matter how much she tried to fill herself with him, she always failed, and was left there incomplete, knowing that she could try and try for the rest of her sad life, and he would never feel the same about her.  
Severus Snape was the bane of Minerva's existence, and yet he was also the one single vein that coursed through her body and kept her alive.  
A shadow crossed the small window in the far tower, and the small flicker it created in the glow drew Minerva's attention once more.  
Who's room was it that she was staring in now? Who's lamp was it that cast the revealing light on her sadness? She stood motionless on the balcony and watched the window, her eyes narrow and searching.  
Again the figure passed by the window, moving quickly and purposefully. The person's silhouette subtly displayed a very thin, muscular body, tall and slender with a rigid, upright way of walking.  
Minerva stood in complete stillness, until once again the figure passed by the window, this time slower. Minerva could see the shape of straight, thick hair just short of reaching the persons broad, masculine shoulders, outlined by the bright torchlight in the room. She knew who that man was.  
Somehow she had known it was Severus the moment she had seen him. She had felt the immediate sinking feeling in her stomach, the fluttering in her chest. Whether it was just because she already expected the gods to be so cruel as to torture her this way, or simply because she subconsciously knew the location of his room, she had known it right away.  
Oh, what cruelties she put herself through; standing alone on a cold ledge, a giant impassable void resting between her and where she wanted to be. It was just the kind of cruelty she expected from this world now. Any world that would have her fall in love with such a cold, hopeless man had already proven its vileness.  
Once again, Minerva returned her concentration to his window. He passed by again, but this time he stopped right at the window, turned, and looked out. Minerva's intake of breath was so sharp and painful that she half expected him to have heard. Her heart stopped in her chest. Was he looking at her? Could he see her? The balcony she was on was shrouded in the shadow of the tall tower, an unwavering mass of pitch black from where Severus stood. Minerva let out her breath slowly, her chest falling again. But the tingling in her hands and face remained, a hot, burning sensation creeping up behind her cheeks.  
He's so graceful, she thought, as she leaned her body up against the railing of the balcony, if just to get a few precious inches closer to this amazing being. She wanted to fly now, to leap across the giant valley of shadow that separated them and land smoothly in his strong arms. She wanted him to hold her there outstretched, thousands of feet above the ground, because she wanted to feel safe. No matter how high up, she would feel safe in his arms.  
Her entire body grew warm at the thought of his soft lips caressing her skin, his confident, precise hands running down the smooth skin below her neck, across the subtle protrusions of her clavicle, and down into the warm recesses of her undergarments. She felt the tough, used skin on his palms gently cup her warm breast, his skin and her skin melding as one in the hot passion that passed between them.  
It was his movement that shattered her wonderful dream, snapping her out of the passionate visions and back into reality. Her eyes, which had been glazed over in the silent pleasure her dreams had brought her, refocused on his slender figure, outlined by light. He still stood at his window, his body arched slightly over the sill. A single arm was raised, outlined by the torchlight, waving back and forth above the long drop to ground below.  
It was in that second that Minerva came closest to death. She felt the blood in her veins stop cold, frozen, her heart suspended mid beat in her chest. She felt sweat trickle down insider her robes, the small droplets gently rolling down the gap between her breasts and into the fabric of her undergarments.  
Was he waving at her? His figure hung straight out of the window, outstretched to catch the attention of someone who would not easily be able to see him. His arm moved side to side still, across the beams of light cast by the window.  
He was looking at her. In one swift motion, Minerva reached down and clasped her robes in her hand, raising them up to her knees. With her other hand, she clutched the icy railing tight, pushing the weight of her body up onto it until she was crouched there, suspended above a drop of several hundred dark feet.  
Still, Severus waved to her. She thought she might have heard him call out, crying her name into the night, but the deafening pounding of her own heart and her own rasping breath made it hard for to hear anything. But she did see him, waving to her across the abyss.  
Was she to jump to him? Would he catch her in his sturdy arms, just like in her dreams? Would he lay her gently down on his bed and slide off clothes, reveal the warm, smooth skin beneath to her? She didn't know, and in truth, she didn't need to.  
From her tenuous perch upon the railing, each harsh breath feeling like it would the one to propel her off the ledge, and into his arms, she saw another shape in the darkness.  
Slowly, a small, slender woman on a broom materialized out of the shadows, her long dark robes fluttering behind her as she forged ahead through the shadows to the bright window.  
Severus lowered his arm, his beckoning unnecessary now that the object of his desire had finally reach him. Her figure slowly moved in front of his, like the dark moon eclipsing across the bright sun, casting a shadow blacker than black across Minerva's motionless body.  
The woman moved, her body rising off her broom, being lifted by his strong arms into the window. He drew the woman in close, her body and his becoming one dark silhouette framed by the heavenly yellow glow.  
Minerva couldn't breath. Her entire body went numb as she watched Severus' head moving fluidly down the woman's neck, his lips landing softly on her skin. Her head raised in ecstasy as the delicate features of his face became hidden in the shadows of the curve of her neck, where his tongue and lips worked vigorously to caress the woman into compliance with his needy hands.  
Minerva's body was cold, even underneath her robes. She felt her muscles weaken, loosen, and go limp. Terror, pure untainted terror gripped her now. Severus was with a woman. Her fingers slowly unwrapped from around the icy railing; her arms limp at her side. As Minerva helplessly felt her weight fall forward, all she could do was gaze up at the two figures in window, entwined passionately about each other, melding into one zealous phantom. Not able, not willing, and not wanting to move, Minerva flew forward into the night, her robes billowing out behind her in a mass of rippling fabric as the sped down towards the black ground. Minerva closed her eyes, and let herself fall, her body consumed by the deepening pit of shadows into which she submitted herself. As the wind howled in her ears, and her body finally broke through the shadows and into the solid ground, the last image burned into her mind was those two fiery bodies, entwined in a mass of heavenly light, living the only dream Minerva had ever had. But in the split second before she hit, she realized it wasn't the only dream she had ever had. Right now she was living the only other dream she could possibly force herself to dream; death. 


End file.
